


Falling

by hummdrumlife



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummdrumlife/pseuds/hummdrumlife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Occurs around episode 44/19, after Seirin's win over Touou in the WInter Cup.  Inspired heavily by Kise's monologuing on the sidelines during the match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

Aomine lets out a harsh pant as he catches Kuroko's pass, spins and heads down court. He counts two heart beats and then passes back, not to where Kuroko is, but to where he should be. Within a blink, he's there, and his fingers touch the ball just long enough for him to jump and shoot. Aomine's breath is heavy as his eyes narrow on the arc. It's better than it's been - and his heart jumps when it hits the rim as if he was really pinning a game on this, as if it mattered - something he's noticed happening more often since that loss. Although the ball bounces off that rim, and it hesitates in the air, it finally drops down through the basket, and Kuroko clenches one of his fists, silently drawing it toward his chest in triumph. 

Aomine notices and laughs through his nose, his eyes briefly closing as he straightens up.

"You never react the way you should," he murmurs, still smiling, eyes opening into interested slants. "Do you, Tetsu."

"I don't think it's for you to say how I should react, Aomine-kun."

Kuroko looks at Aomine with blank vistas in his blue eyes, his chin tilted. It only makes Aomine laugh louder as he walks across the court and slings his arm around Kuroko's neck, squeezing him sideways.

"Don't I get any privileges? We've known each other a long time, and I'm doing you a favor. You owe me."

Kuroko winces one eye shut as he's tugged roughly to Aomine's chest, the open one peering up at him for a silent moment. It could almost feel like it did at Teiko, when they smiled at each other - or he smiled at Aomine's smile, more specifically. Even then, Aomine directed that light outward in broad rays. It didn't focus.

"... Aomine-kun," he finally says, and his quieter voice changes the mood though he doesn't retract himself from Aomine's arms. "Have you spoken to Kise-kun since our match?"

Just like that, the smile disintegrates, hardening into an irritated line. He hisses out a "tch" and rolls his eyes, arms falling away from Kuroko.

"Why would I? We won't be playing them in the Winter Final. You've seen to that."

Kuroko watches as Aomine turns away from him, folding inward as he scoops up the ball from where the court meets the grass. 

"He was watching us. After the way that your last game against Kaijo ended, he must have felt something."

"It ended when I surpassed him." Kuroko can see the corner of Aomine's lips begin to curl into a smirk and he frowns. "Like I always-"

" _Aomine-kun._ " 

Kuroko interrupts him, his voice sharp though as quiet as ever, and even though he doesn't continue, Aomine shuts his mouth tightly before letting out a slow sigh. He begins to dribble the ball as they speak, in place at first, but then moving on the court as the ball dances around him, behind his back, across his arms.

"What could I have to say to him?"

"You know that already. You remember what it feels like to suffer a defeat now. You know what it felt like to him, losing to you in that game."

Aomine says nothing, but the glimpses of his face that Kuroko catches as he moves across the court show his jaw set and his brow furrowed deeply.

"Aomine-kun has always taken for granted that he will be the best, without giving any thought to those who fall beneath him, to how they feel as they look up. If they fall, then that must mean that they aren't worthy of attention, or of trust. It means they are a loser."

Kuroko watches Aomine toss the ball from behind his back, looping it up and through the basket, catching it below and continuing to move. But he doesn't stop speaking.

"Maybe that isn't true, though. We all believe that we can succeed, we all try to push ourselves past our breaking points to be better than we can even imagine. And sometimes a fall is necessary along the way in order to achieve our ultimate success, because it can give us the drive we need. The people who fall aren't worthless, and they don't deserve to be looked down on, not unless they didn't try. Aomine-kun, you've fallen. But I don't believe that you are less than me. I just believe that our _team_ was stronger. We trust each other, and we care about each other."

Aomine clenches his teeth as he races down the court, trying to run from the words, jumping into the air and slamming the ball down in a dunk that feels like it's reverberating back in time to that court, the one that Kise has crumpled down onto.

"Who does Aomine-kun care about?"

He hangs from the edge of the hoop, the question like a nail driven up through the base of his neck, and that feeling of nausea floods through him like it did as he looked at the score board and known he'd lost. And he can't run from it or push it down or sleep through it anymore, because it keeps coming back.

Aomine drops heavily down to the ground and doesn't pick up the ball again. He just stands for a second, his face in profile to Kuroko and his eyes shaded, before he turns toward him completely. His face is nearly as expressionless as Kuroko's.

"Why would he listen?"

There still isn't any gentle note to be found in Aomine's voice, but Kuroko's lips still pull into a small smile.

"Kise-kun will always listen. This will just be the first time that Aomine-kun will have something worth listening to."

Aomine's face falls into exaggerated exasperation and he lets out a wounded huff before kicking the ball toward Kuroko's feet, shoving his own hands into his pockets.

"Always so cold, Tetsu," he mutters as he turns to walk off the court. Kuroko leans down to pick up the ball as he watches Aomine walk away. He's still smiling when he finally turns around and starts to dribble the ball, continuing to practice that day's lessons.

~

Aomine doesn't let himself try to _find_ Kise. He just walks toward where he knows he would be. As he exits out of the locker room doors onto the court, hands still shoved into his pockets, he hears the thud of a ball hitting the floor and he finds that he already recognizes the rhythm. He'd know who was playing even if he was blindfolded. Kise may be an expert at mimicry, but there's something at the center that never changes. It's in how _hard_ the ball rebounds and flies back to his hand. He's hungry, and it shows in that powerful thud and snap. 

As Aomine walks up behind him, Kise blows his hair up with the force of a breath and darts forward, feigning left and right before leaping into a layup. It's definitely inspired by Aomine's style, and he smirks as he watches Kise dunk and dangle.

"Still trying to perfect me, Kise?"

Kise looks over his shoulder with surprise, still hanging, before he lets himself drop. He smiles the second he lands, and it's broad and shines with charismatic enthusiasm, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Aominecchi! What are you doing here so late? Come to ruminate over the game?" The first sign of life sparks in a playful tilt to Kise's eyes and Aomine snorts before unfolding one of his hands from his pocket. He holds it out expectantly and Kise easily kicks the ball back up into his own hands before passing it over. As Aomine catches it, he immediately starts to dribble and Kise slides into a rhythm of following him. Their feet shift in unison, back and forth, like they're waltzing.

"You were watching today," Aomine says, watching Kise's hands instead of his eyes, keeping the ball by his moving legs. 

"I always watch Aominecchi play," Kise murmurs back, focusing and therefore letting his voice drop from the loud enthusiasm into a more wry amusement. It's the tone that Aomine prefers in his voice - and it's the tone that those stupid, squealing fangirls of his never get to hear. "Even when you win easily, your games never bore me."

"And Ryouta Kise hates to be bored." Aomine is the one with a spark in his eye now, and he accompanies his taunt with a feint that has Kise reaching sharply out to steal before Aomine draws the ball quickly back in.

Kise lets out a huff of annoyance that he tries to mask with another grin and a chuckle. "Aw, you're so _mean_ ," he half-whines, looking up at Aomine through the part in his hair. "At least I don't oversleep through all of my practices."

"I can afford to," Aomine returns instinctively with a low rumble, zipping around Kise, but then finding him at his side again, forcing him back from the basket. "I never lo-"

What he's saying sinks in as he's saying it and he stops mid-word and mid-step. Kise is so focused on their back-and-forth on the court that he steals before he realizes. He's a grin and a bouncing step away before he sees Aomine's fallen face and then he stops too, stumbling just a bit. 

They stand opposite each other, the ball motionless in Kise's hand, Aomine's eyes blank and Kise's brows drawn together. There's too much to be said, by either of them, that the conversation won't seem to start. It doesn't help that Aomine has never, in all of the time of seeing Kise at his side at Teiko, of dry and taunting, teasing conversations in the hallways, and of moonlit street games that left them breathless on the bench, leaning into each other, ever spoken one truly vulnerable word to Kise. Kuroko was right - he hadn't said anything worth listening to, not once. Because he'd thought that caring about someone as... blatantly as Kise cares was the worst kind of weakness, since it came without benefit. Why risk it? Why risk feeling at all? There's a reason that Aomine can only point to girls in a magazine when asked what his "type" is. If it's fictional, then you never have to risk the reality.

This, though, is very, very real. Aomine knows how it feels to be left on the court, stinging with defeat, knowing the roar of the court around you is at your expense. And he'd thought at that moment of when he'd seen Kise on a heap at the end of their game, the tears streaming down his cheeks as he'd tried to stand, and he'd turned and walked away. The sight had... disgusted him. Pride humbled that brutally disgusted and disturbed him. He hadn't thought about how lonely you become when you're that broken. Not until he'd fallen himself and realized that the only person he could think of to look toward had no reason to pull him back up. 

"Kise," he starts in a broken, quiet mumble, without any way of knowing how he'll continue, gaze dropping. There's a pause, and then he hears the ball thud to the ground as he watches Kise's shoes enter his vision.

"I know," Kise's voice comes from above him, deceptively light and airy, although the shock that lifts his eyes is Kise's warm fingers trailing for a second up his arm before his hand lands on Aomine's shoulder. "Aominecchi, you don't need to say it."

As Kise looks into Aomine's stunned eyes, sees the man that's been behind those stone walls shine through them, he knows it's true, although he'd never have expected it. He thought, after what had happened that last game, that he needed Aomine humbled, he needed him broken for this to start to heal. And he was glad that Seirin had won, for everyone's sake. But he looks at his stupid Aominecchi now and he doesn't want him wounded - there's no joy in that.

Aomine lifts his opposite hand and puts it down over top of Kise's on his shoulder, his gaze shifting sideways again. Kise briefly thinks that if a blush could rise on Aomine's dark skin, then it would be there now, and the thought makes him smile again. His own chest certainly sounds like it's trying to start a dance party the longer they stand there, close and touching without sarcasm lodged between them.

The moment can only last so long, though. Kise ducks suddenly to catch Aomine's eyes, his own bright from the inside out again.

"Maybe for your next game, _you_ can train with _me_!"

Aomine's eyes widen for a second with surprise at the shift in mood before they immediately narrow. "Oh, really," he mutters darkly, pushing Kise's hand off of his shoulder and taking a quick step closer. Kise takes a responding step back, a little surprised at how upset Aomine seems to be. And after they'd had such a good moment!

"You think that _you_ have something to teach me," Aomine continues, backing Kise up steadily as Kise's hands lift in the air between them.

"It was a joke," he laughs awkwardly. "We can learn from each other! That's what I meant."

"And what could you have to teach me?"

Kise lifts a hand to scratch his head, still trying to smile but beginning to doubt its effect. "I'm sure there's _some_ thing," he chuckles, before he's cut off by Aomine's hand snapping out and clutching the center of his jacket. Kise has just long enough to wish vainly that he could protect his face before Aomine's mouth is planted clumsily on his.

Kise has had his fair share of first kisses, from a variety of different people. He's rarely had one that he dislikes - honestly, he really enjoys first kisses. They come from a place of giddy rush that inevitably fades into muted boredom, but is so precious at the start. That said, Aomine seems to be trying to squash him into the earth. Kise is fairly sure that his lips are bruised from being mashed against his teeth, and then there seems to be some sort of semi-biting going on as it continues? And he's still lifted off of the ground by his jacket, Aomine's forehead digging in until Kise is _forced_ to melt backward. It feels like more of a wrestling move than a kiss.

But when he makes a sound in his throat and puts his hand on Aomine's sleeve, causing him to exhale and finally pull back, Kise has two realizations. The first is that Aomine _can_ blush, and when he does, he looks like a lost first-year and not at all like the titan Kise had gazed up at when they'd first met. The second is that this is the first time that a first kiss has actually _meant_ something to him.

Kise breathes out as well, at last, and with it comes a smile and a palm resting on Aomine's cheek. "I think we've found one thing anyway," he murmurs, eyes already half-lidded, and then tilts his chin as he guides Aomine's lips apart gently.

As Aomine lets himself be taught, his fist unclenches from Kise's jacket, smoothing down his front instead and coming to rest on his waist. There will be a part of this that won't change - they both know that, without speaking it. They've been keeping each others' pride in check for long enough that it's become essential to their particular brand of reciprocity. That's what it is, though - and while Kise hums happily, glad to have what he's known for quite some time finally confirmed, Aomine feels his insides buzz with the thrill that he only associates with playing the kind of basketball he did two days ago. It's that leap into the unknown, and the partner he requires for that kind of a fall is, like it or not, right here.


End file.
